Proving My Identity

These observations were first published at The Glorious Table, where I write monthly: https://theglorioustable.com/2021/02/devotional-proving-who-i-am/

If I am incapacitated in some way, let’s say hit by a bus, and unable to speak, the emergency personnel would only have to open my wallet to know who I was and where I belonged. They would also know what I declare to be my height, weight, hair, and eye color. They would know that I am an organ donor. All of this vital information is found on a small plastic rectangle, artfully encoded with snazzy security features, that I carry everywhere.

I have to renew my drivers license this year and our state is upgrading to the REAL ID system. Instead of simply sliding my license across the desk and taking an eye test, I have to make an appointment and arrive with documentation. Not just one or two pieces. Oh no. A stack of documentation including, but not limited to, the following: birth certificate, passport, marriage certificate, social security card, tax forms that include both my address and my social security number. None of the above will also prove that I live at my current address so I must have not one, but two documents that list my current address, which can include utility bills or property tax statements, but only if they are the most recent bills or tax statements.

Can you sense my frustration? I admit, it is palpable. I have put off this chore for as long as possible, my birthday is in less than a week.

All of this work, all of this paperwork that I have to bring along to prove that I am who my about-to-expire drivers license has said that I am for the past 30 years. When I sat with my frustration, talked to it, found out why it was there, I realized that my frustration was based on the feeling of not being known. When I walk into the Department of Transportation office at my appointed time, I have to bring a stack of documents just to prove that I belong. To me. At my address.

Now I love my address, I have lived in this house for twenty-six of my forty-four years, but does the stack of paperwork prove that I live here or is it that I know where the extra key is hidden? Is it enough to know which toilet handle requires a jiggle? Can I explain which window I used to break into my own house when the hidden key was irretrievably lost instead of simply holding my property tax statement? The act of proving who I am and where I live requires a lot of paperwork.

What do I have to do to prove that I am a Jesus follower?

Do we have documents to prove that we are who we say we are? A secret handshake? One might think that perhaps we all wear cross necklaces or have fish bumper stickers on our cars. Is there a minimum number of Bible verses we have to have memorized? Which Lord’s prayer do we have to recite?

I can imagine the disciples sitting with Jesus and Peter asking him (of course it was Peter!), “Jesus, how will everyone else know that we are your disciples? How will they know that we who have been with you this whole time are special? Can we have team cloaks?” Before you discard that statement, keep in mind that the disciples had also argued about who would sit where when Jesus came to the throne of Israel. Like us, these first century followers were eager to share and prove their identity in Christ.

Jesus knows his time is short and he speaks plainly to those gathered around him. “I give you a new commandment: Love each other. Just as I have loved you, so you also must love each other. This is how everyone will know that you are my disciples, when you love each other.” (John 13:34-35, CEB)

Not team cloaks, not matching rings, not gold stars on a Sunday School chart. Not how much you give, how often you attend, how much you can recite.

Your love. Just your love. Only your love.

And not just loving people we like.

I almost think I’d rather lug a stack of documents to the Department of Transportation office.

Almost.

I need that stack of documents so that no one else can impersonate me. I need Christ’s love so that I can impersonate him. Because on my own I don’t love. On my own I am selfish and prideful, I am not loving.

A friend recently sent me a t-shirt that says “Empowered Women Empower Women”. I would like to expand that statement: “Forgiven People Forgive People”, “Loved People Love People”, “Graced People Give Grace”. The world knows who we are, whose we are, because of how we love others. And we love them because Jesus first loved us.

Thanks be to God, he loved us first.

The Self-Directed Homeschool

How do I get my kids to do their schoolwork?

-Almost every parent

If I had a dollar for every time I heard a parent, homeschool or traditional school, say those words, I’d have more cows. Every parent has struggled with motivating a student to complete an assignment. It didn’t matter whether it was parents of my public school students or homeschool parents – getting that schoolwork done can be a frustration. In our homeschool, I use student-directed learning as the primary motivation.

What does that mean?

What is your child interested in? What books do they read for fun? What animals do they ask questions about? Where do they ask to go on vacation? The answers are all keys to their interests. We use these interests to guide learning and motivate required tasks. As the parent and educator, I can craft assignments, projects, and even whole curricula based on my child’s interests.

How do I do that?

I’ll give you a warning: this may require some time, effort, or expense on your part. I use the world may because it doesn’t have to. In fact, the student should have a responsibility to craft their own learning experience. As a child ages, the more responsibility the student should be assuming in their own education.

My oldest is a talented horsewoman, much of her curriculum is horse-influenced. She has a business that allows her to make money to fund her horse projects. She works with mentors and trainers to improve her skills, train her horses, add competitions, and increase her knowledge. At this point, she is far and above any knowledge her mother has and her knowledge is growing exponentially. Motivation is high when she knows she can ride and practice when her school and household chore responsibilities are completed. And not just complete, but done well. We also use what she teaches her horses to drive home points about her own education.

My middle child is a historian, loves history and maps and anthropology. Using this passion and pursuit as a springboard to learning has brought us a lot of random facts, but also a student who has not only a college-level reading ability, but a passion for learning.

The youngest did not want to read. At all. And nothing would convince her. This child has always marched to the beat of her own drum. Always. So I was patient. She developed an interest in dairy goats and wanted to learn more about them. I bought a subscription to a goat magazine and she poured over the first issue, wanting me and everyone else to read the articles and captions to her. We were all too busy with our own reading material to read about goats, so she had to start reading it herself. When mothers of littles ask me what curriculum I used to teach her to read, I say, “Dairy Goat Journal!”

Go Places and Do Things!

One of the surest ways to sow seeds of interest or build on them is to travel. Go places and explore – even if it is just the local park or nature area. Find tracks and investigate. Collect leaves and try and name the trees. Take photos of flowers and plants and build your own identification book. Eat new foods, do a taste test. I have a friend that when she gathers with her extended family for holidays, they always do some sort of taste test of products – the last one was vanilla ice cream. They set up a blind taste test and compile the results with both qualitative and quantitative data. Explore your local resources, start with your library. Turn your kids loose in the library and don’t censure their book choices. Let them select whatever books look good to them. Make a mental note of those topics and build on those interests.

What If The Interest Runs Out?

Take a breath, parent. It’s okay. It’s okay to come to the end of an interest. Just as the start of the pursuit of knowledge should be encouraged, so should the end. The end of their interest means they have satisfied all of their curiosity on that topic. Resist the urge, please, to remind your child about all the money you spent on scale dinosaur models or horse riding lessons. Instead, offer your encouragement of their learning, the time they put in, the skills they learned, and fun they had. Remember, we are teaching them how to learn and to enjoy the pursuit of knowledge. Ask them “What’s next for you? What are you curious about?” And then you are off on another quest for knowledge.

Annie’s Advice: Let your students scratch that itch!

Living For Spring

Can you feel a change coming?

Living for Spring - Annie Carlson White

Spring is the time of plans and projects. – Leo Tolstoy

Before all the snow is gone, before the grass turns green. Before the birds return and build nests. We know spring is coming. Our chickens respond to the rapidly increasing daylight that occurs around the spring equinox and they start laying lots of eggs.

Our hens spend their winter in a hoophouse, we call it the HoopCoop, and they rest. A break from laying eggs allows them to replace feathers and gain weight before staring the serious work of egg-laying again in the spring.

Even with feet of snow on the ground some winters, we know that spring is coming when our egg basket starts filling up.

I can’t count on the weather predictions or a groundhog in Pennsylvania, but I can count on my chickens.

As farmers, we also use the winter months to rest and rejuvenate. I have napped and read books, I have knitted and baked. I planned my garden and ordered my seeds and my chicks. Like my hens, I have done the necessary preparation for my spring’s work. There are new gardens to plant, fruit trees to prune and more to plant, there are fences to build, and barns to clean. If I have not rested and planned, my spring is chaos. I find myself whirling around the farm, very busy but accomplishing very little. So I take a cue from my chickens: I have rested, now it’s time to get busy.